Well, ‘answers to’ is putting it generously… More like she answers to them with varying success and purely at her own discretion, to be honest.

  But Elza was a unique necromancer, more powerful than anyone else in all of Forland and the entire world. Plus she combined her necromantic magic with demonic magic, which was a double combo, as they say.

  This combo, and fighting for the forces of light, forced the inquisitors to listen to Elza, even though she was a demon — the very thing we’re constantly fighting against. But going to war with Elza would cost you more than it was worth.

  The smart move was to be very polite to her, avoid conflicts, and not provoke her into opening a demonic vortex. Blink and you’d miss her snapping and sucking out your soul and taking your magical Spark.

  Not that I could ever remember my mom snapping like that, and she never touched white mages… but dark ones had gotten it from her, and nobody could guarantee you wouldn’t be the one to finally exhaust this greater demon’s patience.

  Actually, I have a very loving and caring mom. She had more than enough love for all seven of her children. But overall her temperament was wildly volatile and unpredictable.

  My parents were the First Arma — only the Mentor ranked above them in Armarillis — so there simply weren’t any warriors in Armarillis more powerful than Elza and my father. So yeah, you can see where her arrogance comes from. Oh, and add in that volatile demonic temperament, because demons by nature simply can’t be calm and obedient. They’re all explosive by default, and my mom in particular was a walking time bomb.

  But a very powerful bomb, which is why even the general was afraid of her. And with good reason, let me tell you… In her true form, my mom could easily devour anyone’s soul if she wanted to. And no one could ever predict whether she might want to do that to you in the next second. The only one who could calm Elza down was my dad, who wasn’t around at the moment.

  So if I were the general and the other inquisitors, I’d keep my mouth shut and go make coffee and find some sandwiches for the hungry demon. Better to find her a sandwich than become her lunch yourself.

  “Did you teleport here?” Ilforte asked in surprise, giving Elza a welcoming half-hug.

  “But how? Magic isn’t working.”

  “White magic isn’t working. But any concentrated dark magic works just fine. Pure concentrated darkness works no matter what, and greater demons have their own methods of rapid transportation. It’s not exactly teleportation, the principle is different but the result’s the same. Watch.”

  To demonstrate, Elza snapped her fingers and her hands burst into black-and-blue flames. In a split second the flames engulfed her from head to toe, she vanished on the spot, and a moment later appeared to my right. And intercepted a cup of coffee from the inquisitor who had just come out of the kitchen. She took a big sip and immediately grimaced.

  “How much sugar did you put in this?” she asked, annoyed.

  “Half a teaspoon, like you asked…”

  “Was your teaspoon the size of a ladle or what? Or do you have depth perception problems? Too sweet. Go make another one,” Elza said in a demanding tone, shoving the coffee cup back at the inquisitor and snatching the ham and cheese sandwich from the other inquisitor.

  “All demonic magic is available to me,” she continued with her mouth full like it was nothing, addressing Ilforte.

  “And that’s bad news. If demons show up right now, they’ll be able to cast just fine. But you?.. You’ll be sweating bullets somewhere. Oh wait, no you won't, the demons won’t let you, they’ll squash you before you can get to that somewhere.”

  “That’s bad,” Ilforte summed up.

  “Putting it mildly.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” the general said with a grimace.

  “Inquisitors aren’t pushovers who can’t defend themselves.”

  “Tell that to the Armarillis Academy adepts who were training with kernals today and barely escaped with their lives when magic disappeared and the dark creatures got out of control,” Ilforte snorted.

  At these words, Elza stared grimly at me and Calypso and pursed her lips. Apparently no one had told her yet about what happened to us in the forest. Probably for the best — my mom was unpredictable, and news like that was best delivered very carefully. No, she didn’t have helicopter parent syndrome, but given her demonic nature I never knew what might set her off or why.

  Mom looked me over very carefully from head to toe with her demonic eyes - completely black with a bright blue pupil. She was probably doing a quick scan to check for any injuries. Once she was satisfied I was okay, she smiled warmly, and with that smile, that attentive look, she could say far more than words ever could. Mom always knew how to support me without words, like mentally wrapping me in a hug.

  “What were the adepts training with?..” General Mackelberry didn’t understand.

  “With kernals, General,” Elza said.

  “Dark creatures that no blade can touch without magic. And if someone sets those on inquisitors in an anti-magic zone, I have serious questions about what will be left of the inquisitors. So what exactly happened here? Give me the full rundown all I got was a two-word summary of the problem and a request to get here ASAP.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ilforte started to explain, but the general immediately cut him off:

  “Mr. Brandt, don’t forget yourself I’m in charge here, not you,” Mackelberry said in a haughty tone.

  “I’m perfectly capable of giving a report myself.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Ilforte replied coldly.

  I could’ve sworn he barely held back from rolling his eyes.

  Mr. Mackelberry turned to Elza and began recounting the recent events. Though his account was rather one-sided, he presented the whole situation as if finding the victim in the pentagram was practically his personal achievement. Ilforte didn’t intervene, and his face gave nothing away. But Calypso’s and my faces definitely showed our surprise.

  Right at that moment, the general had to stop because Elza drowned out his words by pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and blowing her nose loudly.

  She did it slowly and deliberately, so everyone’s attention turned to her instead of the general. I noticed that all the inquisitors in the room had identical frozen half-smiles on their faces, like they were barely holding back laughter.

  “Have you caught a cold?” Mr. Mackelberry asked with an affected smile.

  “Nah, just allergic to bullshit,” Elza waved him off, tucking the handkerchief back into her pocket.

  “Happens all the time.”

  The general’s teeth ground together audibly, but he didn’t comment. Instead he said:

  “Do you disagree with something? Did you want to say something, Mrs…?”

  “You can just call me ‘my lady’ I won’t mind,” Elza said cheerfully.

  Ilforte made a sound like a suppressed snort but immediately covered it with a cough.

  “You may continue, Mr. Mackelberry,” Elza said.

  “Thank you for your permission,” the general said through gritted teeth.

  But he did continue his report. Though he had to stop several times because Elza was openly distracting him.

  She was half-listening to the general while noisily slurping her fresh coffee, then chewing gum and periodically blowing it into a big bubble that she popped with a loud snap.

  The more she did it, the more barely-contained smirks appeared on the inquisitors’ faces. I was practically choking on silent laughter, and Calypso was clearly in silent ecstasy too, judging by his amused expression.

  Only the Mentor kept a straight face, didn’t flinch or change expression.

  But that’s the Mentor for you — his position required him to keep his composure in any situation and stay neutral in difficult ones.

  Though I had a feeling Ilforte was mentally cursing Elza for her deliberately disrespectful listening. But not for the disrespect itself “for the fact that Ilforte had to watch and listen to all of this with a stone face instead of cracking up somewhere off to the side.”

  “Got it,” Elza said when the general finished.

  “Let me take a look at this pentagram first. Alone, nobody follows me.”

  She went down to the basement and was gone for several minutes, during which the general and the Mentor talked quietly.

  “This First Arma of yours is completely unbearable, Mr. Brandt,” the general said in a dismissive tone.

  “The First rank in Armarillis should be held by calm, balanced people. Not unruly women who can’t behave properly in high society. Think about that. She’s setting a bad example for the other warriors of balance.”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Unruly women,’ wow. He could get punched in the eye by my mom for words like that. And there was no guarantee the eye would survive. Or its owner.

  “I’ve explained to you many times that the universe itself chooses whether to grant a Fortemin the Arma mark, and if so, which rank,” Ilforte said dryly.

  “I’m not some dispenser of statuses. And if Elza bears the First mark, it means she deserves it. Which means this is how it’s supposed to be.”

  “‘Supposed to be’ calling someone who can’t follow basic etiquette one of Armarillis’s best warriors?” “Mackelberry said with a grimace.

  “You know, Mr. Brandt, the longer I work with you, the more the Armarillis leadership seems like a bunch of very powerful mages who’ve gotten too full of themselves. You could use some work on discipline among your charges. If you want the Inquisition to keep working with you, that is.”

  Oh, now I wanted to take the general’s eye too. And his tongue… his tongue was definitely unnecessary. Along with his brain.

  Calypso and I exchanged looks. His expression clearly read ‘I really don’t like this general, can we kill him?’ I’m sure my face showed something similar.

  But it was almost impossible to get the Mentor riled up, so instead of the confrontation the general expected, all he got from Ilforte was a dry:

  “As you yourself noted, this ‘bunch’ consists of very powerful mages, more powerful than anyone in the Inquisition’s General Staff, in all of Forland, and in the world at large. Mages who continue to hold back terrible dark forces that without our intervention would have destroyed all of Forland, this entire world, and a couple of neighboring worlds for good measure long ago. Get your priorities straight, General. And choose your words carefully when addressing me and my charges. If you want to keep your position, that is.”

  You could practically smell something burning in the air. The tension was palpable. The general’s aura was vibrating with anger, while the Mentor’s aura was smooth and calm but had become noticeably heavy. It’s hard to describe in words — you just have to be there to feel the full ‘weight’ of a supreme mage’s aura pressing down on you. Right now, two such supreme mages were demonstrating their magical pressure. But the general was clearly losing.

  “Are you threatening me?” he said in a haughty voice.

  “I’m warning you,” Ilforte said with a dazzling smile.

  “I won’t allow anyone to call my Armarillis Academy charges ‘a bunch.’ We treat every inquisitor with respect, so show respect to all Fortemins as well. The proper thing would be to have a calm, balanced person in the position of Supreme Inquisition General, one who knows how to follow etiquette and sets an example for the other inquisitors. After all, the general isn’t a demon who physically struggles to stay calm due to his demonic nature. Don’t you agree?”

  I looked at the Mentor with admiration. I’d always loved his ability to elegantly shut down any opponent, and I secretly envied this skill of his. Well okay, who am I kidding? I openly envied it.

  The general and the Mentor were spared from continuing their unpleasant conversation by Elza’s return. She shot a suspicious look at the general’s pulsing aura but didn’t comment, though she clearly wanted to throw in a few jabs.

  Elza turned to Ilforte and spoke to him:

  “There’s nothing that can be done for the victim, and extracting any information from him is impossible. All I can tell you is that it’s a void summoning pentagram.”

  “What does that mean?” the general asked, frowning.

  “The pentagram leads to the shadow flip side of reality and was created as a high-frequency energy beacon.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “Someone wants to break a Seal of Creation.”

  After those words, silence hung in the living room for several seconds. Everyone present was processing the information, grasping the scale of the problem. And the scale was impressive.